


My Mistake to Make All Night

by Skalidra



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vikings, Flirting, Jason's a disaster, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-17 12:13:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16516277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/pseuds/Skalidra
Summary: Jason and Dick are brothers, the sons of a lord, and coming back from their first successful raid together. A storm forces them to take shelter in a village on the way, and when Jason takes his armor to the local blacksmith to get it fixed up, it turns out that Jason has more problems than just worrying about accidentally offending the local lord. Like, say managing more than two or three words around the all too attractive 'Roy.'





	My Mistake to Make All Night

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! This is the first of my two works for the DCU Bang. JayRoy, viking AU, with some lovely disaster-gay!Jason. I've got some awesome art pieces by OnTheStraightandNarrowPath, down in the art, that are totally awesome. Enjoy the story and the art work!
> 
> [You can find StraightandNarrow's Tumblr here!](https://onthestraightandnarrowpath.tumblr.com/)   
>  [You can find my Tumblr here!](http://skalidra.tumblr.com/)

"So you're going to behave while we're here, right?" Dick asks as he comes up beside him, the mast at their back and the deck swaying lightly beneath their feet with each roll of movement in the waters below.

The ship rides low with the gathered treasure and supplies from their raid, but they've made decent time anyway. Not good enough to get them home, but enough to get them far enough away from the ransacked victims and to a village controlled by one of their allies. Their father's allies, really. They should be able to find safe harbor here for a day or two, while their companions rest and heal enough that they can all make the journey home. Assuming that no one offends their hosts.

Jason rolls his eyes with a scoff, arms crossed over his chest as he leans back into the wood of the mast. "I know how to act, Dick. We represent Bruce as his sons, I get it; I'm not going to do anything stupid."

"I trust you," he gets as reassurance, and even a moment of silence to enjoy that statement, until Dick continues, "But it's been a long journey and a hard fight; I know the protocols for other lords frustrate you sometimes even at home, and they'll be more important here. We can introduce you as just one of the men, if you want. It'll take some of the pressure off."

" _Gods_ ," Jason huffs, shaking his head and pushing off the mast. "You trust me, huh? Yeah, definitely sounds like it."

He stalks towards the back of the ship, even as Dick calls, "That's not what I meant," after him, and follows, matching his path back through the rowers. More than a couple grin up at them, listening in and clearly entertained by it. "Jason, wait."

It's not like he can go any further than the stern, without diving into the water. He's not that desperate. Jason can, however, refuse to turn around, messing with one of the bags, making sure it's tied securely. It is. They all are.

Dick doesn’t mean it like it sounded, he knows that, but he’s tired and he’s got bruises from the fight that being on the ship has only made worse. It’s hard not to take things personally right now.

Dick's hand touches his shoulder, heavy enough that even through the fur and leather he can feel it. He doesn’t shake it off. "Hey, I just wanted to give you the choice, if you wanted it. You want to do this? We'll do it. I just wanted you to know that you didn't have to."

“Uh-huh,” he sarcastically agrees, “so that when this lord comes to our hall someday, he can see the one person with a streak of white hair and ask why I wasn’t introduced as a son when we stayed in _his_ hall?”

Dick’s hand leaves his shoulder, but he’s still there when Jason turns around. It’s not obvious, but he can see the flick of gaze to his hair and back again, briefly. “That’s—”

“I’m not subtle, Dick. And more importantly, I’m not a kid anymore. Maybe I haven’t gone to another lord’s hall before, but I’ve been doing this for over a decade now, you could treat me like it.” He crosses his arms again, making himself keep Dick's gaze. "Besides, _you're_ one to talk about getting frustrated. You've done way more shouting at guests than I have. If one of us shouldn't go in there, it's you."

Dick cracks a smile. "Okay, fair enough. Nothing special then; we'll go in as who we are.” A pause, and then a teasing, “Little brother."

As always, he's not _quite_ quick enough to get out from under the whip-fast hand that snaps up to ruffle his hair. He's not fast enough to do more than swipe at it either, and it's gone before he makes contact.

He scowls, reaching forward to shove at Dick's chest. "Knock it off."

Dick laughs, backing off a couple steps and then tossing a, "Never," over his shoulder as he heads for the front of the ship.

Jason snorts and shakes his head, not following. Yeah, Dick teasing him is never going to change, at least when it doesn't really matter. It's not like he hasn't done sort of the same thing to Tim, or Damian, when he can get away with it. Maybe it pisses him off, but Dick doesn't mean it, he knows that. Dick means well, even when he does live up to his name.

And Dick's not _wrong_ exactly, even when he is being bullheaded and an ass. It was a hard raid, and it's the first real raid that Jason's been a part of. He's done a few closer to home, but not one this far, or this serious. It went well, but it was harder than he's used to. Maybe harder than they're all used to, if his companions are to be believed. Also, the storm that's coming in on the horizon — prompting Dick's decision to make for a closer, allied village instead of home — isn't helping with anyone's moods. Everyone's tired, and everyone's a little stressed.

He's definitely included on that list, even though he's not intending to let it make him do anything stupid. All he has to do is keep more or less calm, and he can do that. He's had practice at that.

It's just a couple days.

 

* * *

 

The lord's actually pretty tolerable, which is nice. Dick takes lead as always, being his regular charming self as he asks for harbor till the storm passes, and gets it. Of course he does. Jason does his job, smiles a little and nods when he's introduced, and thankfully nobody seems all that interested in him apart from a couple jokes about him being the 'little' brother. Yeah, he's heard those before.

They get gifted a building near the edge of town to stay and sleep in — an older home that should still be stable enough to weather the storm fine — and offered a dinner that night, in celebration of their victories. Jason can admit that does sound like fun, which is good because they really don't have any option but to say yes. It'll be nice to have an actual warm, fresh meal instead of the rations of the boat, and something to really drink. Better, when they're back home among the rest of friends and family, but it'll be nice to get to relax.

They offload the loot from the raid, and drag the ships themselves up far enough onto land that the storm shouldn't damage them, or snap any ropes and carry them off. Everyone seems happy to get settled, and it's good to be in a village with people of trades, again. The couple of their warriors that have been wounded branch off to find their healer, and Jason himself finds himself eyeing the damage his chainmail and shield took, in the fight.

If they're going to be here a couple days, maybe he can get it fixed. If there's a capable blacksmith in town, he's got the coin to pay for it thanks to the fight, and that means not getting rolled eyes and looks from the Foxes, back home. At the least he might as well check and see if he can get a reasonable price.

Dick's busy, so Jason just gathers his things and heads into the main village, stopping one of the clearly-shield-maiden women to ask, "Could you point me towards your blacksmith?"

She looks him up and down, sizing him up obviously enough Jason almost feels compelled to straighten his back. Apparently he passes muster, because she nods and gives him the directions, after a moment. Not quite friendly, but not refusing him so that's a start. News probably hasn't fully passed through the village yet (and not everyone's going to be happy hosting them for a couple days).

Once he gets into that side of the village, the forge is pretty obvious. For starters, it's the only building with a plume of smoke currently curling up from the top.

He knocks at the frame of the wide, open door and steps inside, feeling the wave of heat wash over his skin. "Anyone here?"

There's a man at the forge, turning by the time Jason spots him to push a blade into a bucket of water and then tug gloves off his hands. "Yeah! What can I do for you?" he asks, as he does, and Jason looks at him. Red hair bound in a braid, a sleeveless shirt of hide, fairly tall but he hasn't fully straightened up yet so Jason's not sure how much.

Jason moves forward, pulling his shield and the chainmail draped over his arm a little more front and center. "I'm with the raiders that are staying till the storm passes, if you've heard? I just took a couple hits to my armor and I was wondering if—”

His words die, sharply, as the man turns around and he gets a real look.

[ ](https://onthestraightandnarrowpath.tumblr.com/post/179782274483/jason-that-looks-like-your-best-impression-of-a)

Thick, _powerful_ arms with streaks of soot over them, mixed in with the curl of tattoos. Strands of hair escaping the braid to hang around his face and an easy smile, with green eyes and paler skin. Tall, yes. Probably only a bit smaller than Jason himself. Sweating, and when he lifts a hand to rake the strands back from his face it leaves a streak of black coal along his temple. _Gods._

"If I can fix it?" the man is saying, as he comes closer and takes the shield from him. Jason can't really find it in him to do anything about that but continue to stare, his throat drying up into some tight, strangled thing. "Well, let me take a look."

He surrenders the chainmail without a word because he's afraid anything else will come out incomprehensible.

The man carries both over to a table and spreads them out, fingers finding first the heavy dents in his shield and then the rip in his chainmail with apparent ease. Jason takes the opportunity to pinch his wrist with a vicious little twist, gritting his teeth and swallowing to try and force his throat loose. This is _not_ the time. It doesn’t matter how he thinks that red hair might look loose, or how much strength is clearly contained in those arms, to the point where they could probably overpower even him.

Gods help him.

“This is good work,” the man comments, chainmail spread out over one hand as he examines the links and tear with the other. “Considering where it is—” a glance over his shoulder, to Jason’s ribs “—I’d say you’d be pretty badly hurt if it wasn’t.”

“Yeah,” Jason manages to force out, and he _knows_ it’s not a good idea but he steps closer, coming up to the table beside him. “Lucky hit.”

The man grins. “I’m sure.”

Jason does his best not to swallow his tongue.

Thankfully, the man doesn’t seem to notice. He’s gone back to examining the links of the chainmail, before he drops it to the table and hefts the shield into both hands instead. “Yeah, I can fix this. You’re going to be here a couple days?”

“Till the storm passes,” Jason confirms, and somehow his voice isn’t the strangled mess he was expecting. Maybe the gods are taking pity on him after all.

“Good.” He sets the shield down and leans a hip into the table to face Jason with a crooked smile. “Come back before you head out and I should have it done; doesn’t look too complicated.”

“Thanks.” Jason clears his throat, reaching for the purse at his waist and using it as an excuse to get just a moment’s reprieve from looking at the walking, smiling dream leaning against the table. “What do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Jason blinks, and looks up. “What?”

The man waves his hand dismissively. “Been an overload of tools and nails recently; be nice to work on some armor again. Let's call it just fostering relationships, hm? A little goodwill between two allies."

"Oh." He can't find anything to say but, "Thanks," and even that comes out still a little surprised.

"You're welcome." The man shifts, holds out a hand. "I'm Roy."

Jason takes it, and just manages to get out a, "Jason," between recognizing how strong the grip is around his fingers and his gut trying to swoop its way right out of his stomach.

Roy squeezes his hand a little harder, and then lets go with a smile. "Jason. You'll be at the dinner tonight, right?" He nods, not fully trusting himself to speak. "Good, then I'll see you there. Your stuff's in good hands, don't worry."

“I won’t.”

Someone up above takes even more pity on him, because Roy doesn’t stand and wait for an actual farewell, or for him to go, only hefts his chainmail and shield off the table and turns to carry it towards the forge. Meaning that Jason can stare after him for a stunned couple moments while he tries to restart his brain, and then belatedly force himself to turn around and leave before someone actually notices how much of a fool he’s being. He makes it out without being spotted, and immediately turns the first corner he finds outside into a secluded alley where he can drop his head into his hands.

Gods, what is _wrong_ with him? Alright, fine, the blacksmith — _Roy_ , a part of his brain reminds him, unhelpfully — is good looking. Maybe _really_ good looking. But surely he can say basic sentences without tripping all over himself like a complete moron, even if he’s attracted.

It just… It caught him by surprise, that’s all. He’ll get a hold of himself, he’ll go to the celebratory dinner tonight with everyone else, and he’ll be _normal_. He will make real conversation, he will _not_ stutter or freeze up or do anything else stupid, and he will behave with all the tact he should in a different lord’s village. That’s it. That’s _all_ that’s going to happen.

Jason takes in a deep breath, and straightens up.

He’s not some shocked youth just discovering his own desires; he can handle his own attraction, damn it.

It’s all going to be fine.

 

* * *

 

He holds onto that belief all the way up until he remembers that Dick is here too, and Dick has always been enormously perceptive of things that other people would rather keep hidden.

Like, say, intense attraction to the local blacksmith.

Jason isn’t called out on it instantly, but Dick — still supervising the last of the move of supplies and gear from their ships to the house — asks him where he's been, and there must be something off in his expression because his answer of, "Just went to visit the blacksmith," gets him an odd look and several extra seconds of examination.

The, "Mmhm," Dick immediately follows that up with makes it all too clear that he has _not_ slipped under the radar. "Alright, well, help us get the last couple ships up on the beach. Be good for us all to get a little sleep before the celebration tonight."

He shuts his mouth, thanks whatever gods are listening that Dick's not pinning him down about this right this instant, and falls in to help where he's needed. It's not much. Everything that could be damaged has already been pulled off the ships, and dragging them up onto land doesn't take much time at all. Jason's glad for that, because despite it only being a little after midday, he's starting to feel intensely tired.

Maybe it's something to do with the fact that he knows there's a spot to rest where he's not going to get occasionally doused by sea water, or have to be curled into a ball because of the limited space. Neither makes for good sleep, and the idea of finally being able to really stretch out and relax sounds like one of the best things he could possibly do right now. It's probably just be dirt to lay on, but honestly, that doesn't even sound so bad right now.

It hadn't really caught up to him how tired he is, after the raid, and the hard shifts of work at the oar to get out here. But yeah, now he feels it. Every bruise and tired muscle.

Dick's saved them a nice corner of the house, back where the owners probably slept to begin with. It's a nice, partially secluded little area, half-ringed in by wooden half-walls and still-hanging cloth. Just dirt, as he expected, but when he's stretched out with a pack under his head, Dick on the opposite edge, it doesn't matter even one bit. Sleep is easy, and deep.

It's just enough that when Dick shakes him awake, a few hours later, he feels pretty good. Rested enough that the idea of heading off to a loud, crowded gathering sounds like it could actually be pretty fun, instead of just exhausting. Maybe he can do more than just fulfill the minimum for a son of a lord, before sequestering himself in a quiet corner and staying away from the mess of it all. Now, maybe he's actually got the energy for it.

Dick makes him — and everyone else — leave their weapons behind before they start trickling towards the great hall. It's a fight, for a couple of the men who haven't fully shaken off the idea that their raiding victims might yet come after them, but Dick's word may as well be law, and his brother has more than enough skill to back the demands up. No one goes against him; most respect him too much, and the couple who don't know that Dick is more than capable enough to enforce his rules. It's not worth it to try and disobey him.

Jason's found that out a couple times, even though Dick definitely goes easier on him than he does most other people. It's still just a little humiliating to get his ass handed to him; he tries not to provoke it happening more often than necessary, since it's going to happen in spars anyway. He's going to avoid as much 'little brother' mockery (from the other warriors in their village, not Dick himself) as possible, thank you very much.

It's darkening as they head up, so the hall itself is brightly lit by the fire-pit and scattered torches and candles, and the smoke tinges the air with a familiar, almost home-like scent. The people are strange, and so is the layout of the place, but the smell and the feel of it all feels just like home. It does wonders for smoothing out the tension starting to gather between his shoulders, and Dick's smile and the easy way he talks with the lord, getting the feast started with a toast, does all the rest.

It's easy to enjoy it. Good food, good ale, and some pretty good music.

Dick comes to the table assigned to them after a bit, sliding into the spot next to Jason and immediately involving himself in the conversations around him, as always. Jason actually feels relaxed enough to join in with the good-natured teasing too, and for a little while things go well.

It completely slips his mind that Roy promised to be there until he actually walks through the door.

Jason catches sight of the red head of hair past the head of the woman he’s talking to, and his gaze strays off past her before he’s given it permission to. It takes him a second to register who he’s looking at, but then all of earlier comes back to him in a sharp rush and he very nearly chokes on the bite of meat he’s in the middle of swallowing.

This is exactly enough to get the shield maiden who was talking to him, Steph, to raise an eyebrow and then twist in her seat to follow his gaze. Then she _grins_ , and Jason barely has time to get the protest on his lips before she’s calling Dick’s attention.

Dick looks at him, looks at her, and then follows the jerk of her thumb over her shoulder to Roy, who’s striding over to join one of the other tables. It takes him all of about a second to put things together, and Jason can’t do anything about it but watch in slow awareness of his impending doom.

“So that’s the reason for the look you had earlier, hm?” Dick says, voice thankfully not as loud as Jason was half expecting. Apparently he doesn’t feel the need to involve the whole table in this. Yet.

“No,” Jason defends, immediately. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Let me guess. Blacksmith?”

Jason’s teeth grit. “Yes.”

Dick leans into the table, more or less facing him. “Not remotely your type then, hm? Obviously?”

“Obviously.”

“Great,” Dick says and he’s moving swinging off the bench of the table. “Then I’ll just go introduce myself.”

Jason makes a wild grab for Dick’s arm, or shirt, or _anything_ , but misses entirely. “Dick, _no._ Don’t—”

He’s already gone.

Getting up and going after him would only create a scene, so Jason doesn't have much choice but to curl his hands into fists and watch, helpless, as Dick traverses the room and makes his way over to where Roy's settling down. Steph snorts, and Jason jerks his attention away from the impending disaster and glares at her.

"Shut up," he snaps.

She wiggles her eyebrows, still grinning, and then pointedly shoves a large hunk of meat into her mouth. Then, with a final smug look, picks up her plate and gets off the bench to go pick a spot lower down on the bench. Near one of the other shield maidens they _all_ know she likes, which normally Jason would tease her about in turn, but his gaze drags back to Dick and Roy instead. He just doesn't have the focus to tease her now, with running from the hall starting to look like a better option every passing moment.

Dick is sitting, leaning onto the table with a smile on his face, and Roy is half-facing him. He can't even begin to hear their conversation, with the noise from everyone else, but he _absolutely_ sees the moment when Dick slaps the back of Roy's shoulder with a laugh, jerks his head in the direction of _their_ table, and says something that looks a lot like, " _Come and join us!"_

And they both _get up_.

Jason takes a sharp glance at the door and honestly, really debates if he can make it outside without causing too much of a scene, and if Dick will come after him, and— Gods damn him, they're heading his way and it's way too late now, with both of them looking at him, bearing down like enemies on a battlefield. He is _trapped_ , and he almost thinks that the remaining warrior to his side will grab and hold him if he tries to get out. He would not put it past any of them to be colluding to just absolutely humiliate him.

Dick takes the spot vacated by Steph, and Roy — fuck, _no_ — loops around the head of the table and comes to take the spot right next to him where Dick started. A spot that suddenly seems a lot smaller than it did, because surely Dick's arm didn't press up against his like Roy’s does. Surely he wasn’t so _close_. (Surely there’s no reason for the red hair, loose from its braid and tucked behind an ear, to be drawing so much of his attention, as he tries to get air past the tightness of his throat and give absolutely any kind of a greeting.)

Roy beats him to the punch with a crooked grin and a, “Good to see you again, Jason.”

About all that manages to scrape its way out of his chest is a short, “Hi,” and honestly that’s maybe more than he was expecting to manage.

Roy’s grin grows just a little. “The work on your stuff is going well; should all be done by tomorrow afternoon, I’d say. Unless you’ve got any surprises for me.”

The way Roy’s voice dips, and he leans a little closer, makes Jason’s stomach do its absolute best to flip completely around. He swallows. Shakes his head, mute and unable to make himself breathe, let alone speak.

“He’s usually a little more talkative,” Dick says, grinning unabashedly from across the table.

“I’m sure.” Roy looks to Dick, and then reaches into the table and drags a mug — is that his? Jason’s pretty sure that’s his — towards him to take a swig. “The two of you are brothers?”

“Different parents,” Dick answers for them, smoothing over the implications as easily as ever, “but yes. We have two others at home, too.”

Roy grins, teasing, “Parents?”

“Brothers.” Dick reaches for the second mug between all of them, what must have been originally his. “I’m the oldest, Jason’s second.”

Jason should… he should contribute to this conversation, somehow. If he can just make his mouth work, if he can get his mind to focus on anything but the warmth of Roy’s arm pressed against the outside of his, and the… the pass of green eyes as they look to him, _at_ him.

“Well, he certainly doesn’t look it.”

He swallows, and Roy is smiling at him, holding his gaze. There’s a silence between them, and Jason… He has to be reading into that look, because there’s no way that some random blacksmith from a different village, that they only happened to stop in by chance, that he just _happens_ to be stupidly attracted to, also just _happens_ to be into men and interested in him as well. The chances of that…

“Dad!”

Jason flinches minutely at the shout, and how Roy immediately turns towards it and away from him, twisting back on the bench. His arms lift in just enough time to catch a small, sprinting shape as it all but collides with his chest. A shape that Jason realizes, a moment later, is a very small girl with black hair and the same green eyes, grinning wide enough to match the one her… her father has.

Jason feels the realization like a blow to the gut.

He’s only half listening as Roy declares, “Lian, my little warrior! Where were you sitting?”

“With Kori!” One arm flings out, pointing across the table and room.

Jason looks automatically, and follows the finger to a large woman in clear warrior gear, with a cascade of red hair down her back. She smiles when she sees them looking, bright and laughing, and waves before turning back to her table. Roy chuckles, settling his daughter half on his lap and wrapping an easy arm around her waist.

“That’s a good place to sit,” he agrees, and Jason finally drags his focus away from the gut-punch feeling when green eyes turn briefly to him. “Jason, Dick, this is my daughter Lian. The fiercest warrior in our whole village.”

“I believe it,” Dick says, drawing attention in a way that Jason is immensely grateful for. “What’s your weapon of choice, Lian?”

She proclaims, “A bow!” with all the delighted glow of youth. “Just like my dad.”

Dick laughs, and Jason does his best to deal with the absolute smashing of any vague hopes he’d started to have.

Roy has a daughter. Roy likes _women_. It’s simple enough to add up. He must have imagined anything else in purely innocent, teasing conversation, going off of his own desires and Dick’s completely unsubtle nudging. He was _stupid_ to even think it; he knew the chances were low, why even start to think they might actually happen?

That doesn’t mean that he has the right to be unfriendly, now that he knows. He just has to breathe it all out and let go; it wasn’t Roy’s fault that he misunderstood things.

Jason makes himself straighten up a little bit, not looking at Dick because he doesn’t want to see whatever pity or apology might be in his eyes. He turns to Lian instead, and manages to make himself give a shallow nod. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Lian smiles at him, and it’s an infectious kind of smile that he can’t quite help but respond to, one corner of his mouth curling up without any real permission from his brain. She seems delighted with it, at least until her gaze flicks up and focuses on his hair, eyes widening.

A moment later she’s shoving off her dad, reaching for his head, and Jason flinches just a little as she grabs for the locks of white above his left eye. Roy grabs her before she actually reaches him.

“ _Lian_ ,” Roy censures, pulling her back. “We ask before we grab other people’s things, remember?”

She pouts, and with the surprise fading Jason finds himself saying, “It’s alright,” before he’s fully thought about it. Not that he comes to any other conclusion. He’s faced a lot of interest over his hair, but not much of it has been as innocent and genuinely curious as a child’s. He doesn’t mind that.

He leans an arm onto the table and dips his head down, so it’s in range of her hand where she’s now more firmly held by Roy’s arm. His hair hangs far enough that he can see it, and Lian’s eyes have gone wide again as she lifts a hand, grabs it. He winces just a little at the pull.

“Hey, gentle, alright? It’s still my hair.”

Her touch does loosen, fingers petting through the locks like one might an animal’s fur, and Jason lets his eyes shut as he stays still and lets her explore the texture and length of it. It does feel a little different than the rest of his hair; a little coarser. Touched by the gods, the healer said, when it grew in. By death, more like, but then death is a god herself, and if she touched him and decided to let go, maybe that’s even luckier than some blessing.

From across the table, he hears Dick say, "So the woman over there, Kori? That her mother, or…?"

Roy snorts, and Jason opens his eyes a little to look up through the blockade of his hair and Lian's hand. "Oh no, just a good friend.” Roy’s free hand takes the mug from the table, lifting it for a quick drink. “Her mother was a wanderer; left her with me when she was born. Best accident of my life.”

Dick takes a drink from his own cup, then says with deceptively idle smoothness, “So she’s not involved with anyone then?”

There must be some response in the negative, because Dick grins and sets his drink down, but Jason is too busy reining in his intense desire to glare to hear it. The bastard is really going to get him into this mess, and then just _leave?_ Leave him here with the guy he was so insistent about forcing the issue with, without even a hint of guilt about it now that they both know there’s no chance? Gods, Dick is going to get a piece of his mind when he’s out of this nightmare.

(He’s not going to glare at or through the kid. It’s not happening.)

“Great, then I’m going to go introduce myself.” Dick swings off the bench, and Jason watches him go out of the corners of his vision, crossing to the table with the red-haired woman.

“Alright, Lian,” Roy says, drawing his attention back. “That’s enough.”

Lian lets go reluctantly, but she does let go, letting Jason lift his head again. He rakes a hand back through his hair to settle it as she leans back into Roy’s chest, getting interested in the food on the table instead after a little prompting. It’s sort of impressive how he directs her, arm still loose around her waist, head dipped low to talk close to her ears. There’s a soft fondness in his eyes, and Jason feels his gut twist in on itself. What does it matter what he wanted? He’d have to be beyond selfish to wish that the two of them weren’t together; Roy’s clearly a good parent, and he clearly loves her.

“You’re good with her,” he offers, quietly in comparison to the din around them.

Roy looks up and smiles at him. “So are you.”

There’s something in that smile that makes Jason want to shake, just a little. He… Gods, he wants that smile really aimed at him, for more reasons than just being nice to Roy’s daughter. He wants— It doesn’t _matter_ what he wants; it’s not fair to push his desires like that onto someone who clearly isn’t going to be interested.

“Excuse me,” he manages, before his stomach can twist any tighter. “A little too much ale.”

Jason doesn’t wait long enough to find out if his excuse is accepted or not. Keeps his eyes cast off to the side, in fact, so he doesn’t even have to see whatever look he gets in reaction. He doubts it’s a good one; disappointment, or suspicion, maybe.

It’s a flimsy excuse at best.

With Dick gone, and everyone else too preoccupied with the food, drink, and company in front of them, no one’s there to stop him from slipping around the edges of the room and out the door. The doors are open, so the noise spills out into the night — crisp, heavy air, thick with the coming rain — but once he rounds the corner of the building it dims, leaving him in an easier to handle quiet, with the light from the torches only somewhat intruding. There’s no one else out here; if anyone’s already spilled out from the meal, they haven’t gone his direction (no point; all the other buildings are off the other way).

Without any eyes on him, Jason’s free to drop his head into both hands with a groan, leaning his back into the wood of the building.

"Gods help me," he mutters, raking his fingers back through his hair. "Why him? Why here?"

He lifts his gaze to the sky, the hints of stars and the patterns of stories within them. The moon, hanging above it all.

For a moment, he considers asking the gods if this is at all their doing. If this is entertainment for them, and he's the fool of it all. But reason wins out quick enough. If this is the gods' doing, surely he owes them at least a night of amusement, in payment for the life they gave back to him. Surely he can play whatever part they want him to, no matter what it turns out to be. And if it's not them, then asking — pleading — is more likely to irritate them than gain him any favor. Better if he doesn't.

The plea dries on the tip of his tongue.

He’s going to have to go back in. He can’t actually just stay out here and avoid all of it, even if that does sound like a particularly good idea right now. Dick would notice, for one, and it’s entirely possible that the hall’s lord would too, and who knows what might happen then? Jason promised that he would watch his manners for this visit. Maybe he didn’t plan for… _this_ , but he promised.

Jason breathes in slowly, tipping his head back against the wood and shutting his eyes for a second. Just a second. Then he draws in a sharper breath and pushes off the wall, turning to head back to the hall.

Except that a familiar, red-haired figure is stepping around the corner, and Jason pretty much ends up freezing on the spot.

“Couldn’t help but notice,” Roy says as he moves closer, “that you seemed pretty eager to get away from me.”

“No,” Jason denies, “I just—”

Roy’s eyes narrow, and Jason cuts himself off before he can say some other completely untrue excuse, as see-through as glass.

His gaze drops. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Roy stops just a couple feet away from him, and suddenly down isn’t a safe place for Jason to look anymore. There’s arms down there, legs, all things that he shouldn’t be thinking about and doesn’t have any right to be staring at. Swallowing, he makes himself drag his gaze back up to meet Roy’s eyes instead, even though he’s not completely sure that’s a better option.

Roy doesn’t say anything, and in the silence Jason finds himself shifting, caught in the studying green of his gaze.

“It’s not you,” Jason says, when he can’t stand the quiet any more.

There’s a slight narrowing of Roy’s eyes. “Is it my daughter?”

“No!” He’s barely even thought the word before it bursts out, maybe louder than he’d like. He takes a quick glance back behind Roy to make sure no one else is coming around the corner. “No,” he repeats then, quieter. “Lian’s great, she’s— she’s sweet. It’s not…”

He trails off, and Roy prompts, “Not what?”

A flush steals into Jason’s cheeks — he can _feel_ the stupid thing — and he clenches his jaw, the explanation sitting deep and twisting in his stomach. He looks away, trying to make it come up, trying to just _explain_ that he finds Roy exceedingly attractive and he just… No. He can't. He just can't. He can't open himself up to that kind of ridicule _._

He can't look Roy in the eye, but he does manage to get out, "I'm sorry that I offended you. I never meant that. I'll do my best not to let it happen again; I swear." The words sit on his tongue like leaden weights, every one, but he makes himself say them. It's the only alternative, and Jason really, honestly, doesn't want to offend Roy. (Especially because offending the blacksmith is probably a surefire way to also offend the lord, and he specifically promised Dick he wasn't going to do that.)

(Assuming he hasn't completely blown all chance of avoiding it already.)

He doesn't get an answer, but when he risks a glance up Roy doesn't look upset. Maybe he can just… leave it there. Maybe he can just head back into the hall, and hope that the silence is acceptance, instead of offense.

Jason mutters, "Sorry," again, and starts to circle around to get to the hall.

As he draws even he hears Roy sigh, and then a hand is grabbing his arm and pulling him to a sharp halt. “Your brother was right,” he says, as Jason panics a little and quickly wrestles away his instinctive reaction to start swinging in response to the hold.

In struggling to push that away, he barely even registers the words themselves, and can’t understand that when his gaze jerks to Roy’s face, there’s half a smile there instead of a glare.

“What?”

The smile becomes a grin. “You _are_ just a little oblivious.”

The hand on his arm tugs, and Jason finds himself stumbling forward, finds a hand catching the side of his skull in broad, powerful fingers and dragging him several inches down. He inhales sharply, about to strike out — damn the consequences — and there’s a mouth on his, _lips_ against his.

His mind crashes to a halt.

Roy’s fingers curl in his hair, nails scraping dully over his scalp. It keeps him held close, even as the hand still on his arm pushes him backwards a step and his back hits the wood of the wall, and not for one fraction of the second does the kiss break. Teeth scrape across his bottom lip, bite down on it hard enough to make him gasp. Roy presses up against him, slightly shorter but just as built, the grip on his arm letting go to rise to the side of his neck instead.

Jason can't— He doesn't know how to—

He falls into it.

He leans into the touch, the kiss, his hands lifting to get grips of their own. One finds the long curls of hair, and _gods_ it feels good between his fingers. The other curls against the hide of Roy's shirt, the leather tough but soft against his hand. Roy gives a small, appreciative noise. The fingers in Jason's hair tug, pulling him down even as Roy presses him harder against the wall, thumb rubbing up underneath his jaw.

It's his turn to make an appreciative sound; a quiet groan that he doesn't even try and restrain. Couldn't, even if he did.

And then Roy pulls back and Jason blinks his eyes open, wanting to chase that mouth, to wrap himself up in red hair and strong hands and never leave.

"So, do we have that out of the way now?" Roy asks, voice low and not letting go of him. "Do you see that I'm interested?"

Jason blinks. He feels… off balance. "But, your daughter?"

Roy frowns just a little. "What about my daughter?"

"Well you…” Jason clears his throat a little, feeling the flush slide in under his cheeks. "You had to make her. With a woman. I didn't think—”

"I didn't know you had to choose," Roy interrupts, with a sharp grin. "I guess someone forgot to tell me."

He flushes harder.

Roy's thumb sweeps under his jaw again, as the grin softens to a smile. "So does this interest you? Because I have an empty home and a warm bed, and I'd very much like to have you in it for the night. Or a couple nights."

"Really?" is all Jason can manage, weak and a little stunned. But also with something hot rising sharp beneath his skin.

"Mmm." Roy pulls lightly at his hair, making his eyelids flicker, and smiles wider. "Your legs, and your eyes, have been in my thoughts since we met; along with a couple other pieces of you that I am very much looking forward to getting my hands on. Is that enough of an answer for you?"

Jason swallows, hesitating for a couple moments as the full implications of the offer occurs to him. Sex. Real sex, with this man. With all the muscle and power and weight of him, pressing him down into a bed.

All thoughts of consequence and wariness melt away.

"Yes," he answers, feeling just a bit breathless. "I… I've been thinking about you, too."

Roy grins, leaning in closer to him. "Yeah? What about me?"

It's probably only their closeness that lets Jason breathe out, "Mostly your arms."

The chuckle's not mocking, just amused. "Oh, I promise you'll get to enjoy those all you like. Now what do you say to heading back to my home?"

He's about to say yes, before a thought grabs him with enough force for it to come spilling right out of his mouth. "What about Lian? You can't just leave her in there."

Roy blinks at him, looking a little startled, a little confused. Then he smiles, softer, and says, "Thank you for worrying about her, but I already asked Kori to take care of her for the night. She's happy, and we won't get interrupted. I figured there was a pretty good chance you would want this."

"I do," Jason promises quietly, fervently. "I just haven't…” He swallows, inhaling slowly before admitting, "I haven't done this before."

It could be misconstrued. Roy could think that he means a tryst like this, in a village not his own. Or that he means a man, or even that he's just never done anything with someone who had a kid already. But he doesn't fall to any of those reasons.

Instead, he asks, "At all?" with a small note of surprise.

Jason shakes his head, searching Roy's expression for any hint of rejection, or dislike.

The smile is everything he doesn't expect, as is how Roy shifts forward and presses him into the wall, the hand on his neck sliding up to join the other one in his hair. "Then I have a lot to show you, don't I? Lucky we've got all night. I haven't been with a man in a long while, but I think together we can figure it out. What do you say, Jason?"

Jason closes the last bit of distance between them, and lets that be his answer.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Bonus; Dick one-hundred percent goes and gets in an arm-wrestling competition with Kori and gets his ass handed to him. But it's alright, she likes him anyway.

[ ](https://onthestraightandnarrowpath.tumblr.com/post/179782274483/jason-that-looks-like-your-best-impression-of-a)

**Author's Note:**

> [The art post is here! Please like and reblog!](https://onthestraightandnarrowpath.tumblr.com/post/179782274483/jason-that-looks-like-your-best-impression-of-a)


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